The Panchatantra (Purnabhadra's Recension of 1199 CE)/Book 1/The Weaver's Wife
THE WEAVER'S WIFE
Now as he walked along, Godly spied a weaver who with his wife was on his way to a neighboring city for liquor to drink, and he called out: "Look here, my good fellow! I come to you a guest, brought by the evening sun. I do not know a soul in the village. Let me receive the treatment due a guest. For the proverb says:
No stranger may be turned aside
Who seeks your door at eventide;
Nay, honor him and you shall be
Transmuted into deity.
And again:
Some straw, a floor, and water,
With kindly words beside:
These four are never wanting
Where pious folk abide.
And once again:
The sacred fires by kindly word,
And Indra by the chair is stirred,
Krishna by water for the feet,
The Lord of All by things to eat."
On hearing this, the weaver said to his wife: "Go, my dear. Take this guest to the house. Treat him hospitably, giving him water for the feet, food, a bed, and so on. And stay in the house yourself. I will bring plenty of wine and meat for you." With this he went farther.
So the wife started home with Godly, and she showed a laughing countenance, for she was a whore and had a certain swain in mind. Indeed, there is sense in the verse:
When night is dark
And dark the day,
When streets are mired
With sticky clay,
When husband lingers
Far away,
The flirt becomes
Supremely gay.
The wench cares not
A straw to miss
The covered couch,
The husband's kiss,
The pleasant bed;
In place of this
She ever seeks
A stolen bliss.
And again:
For stranger men
The slut will see
The ruin of
Her family,
The world's reproach,
The jailer's key—
Will risk a death
She cannot flee.
Then she went home, offered Godly a rickety cot and said: "My holy sir, a woman friend has come from the village and I must speak to her. I will be back directly. Meanwhile, you may stay in our house. But please be careful." With this she put on her best things and started to find her swain.
At this moment she ran into her husband, clasping a jug of wine. He was reeling drunk, his hair was towsled, and he stumbled at every step. She ran when she saw him, entered the house, took off her finery, and appeared as usual.
Now the weaver had seen her flee, had observed the finery, and since he had previously heard the gossip that went the rounds about her, his heart was troubled and anger overcame him. So he entered the house and said: "You wench! You whore! Where were you going?"
And she replied: "I have not been out since I left you. What is this drunken twaddle? There is sense in the proverb:
After wine and fever, these
Selfsame symptoms come:
Shaking, falling to the ground,
Mad delirium.
And again:
The setting sun and drunken man
Are both a fiery red;
They sink in naked helplessness;
Their dignity is dead."
When he had taken the scolding and had noticed her change of dress, he said: "Whore! I have heard gossip about you for a long time. Today I have seen the proof. I am going to give you what you deserve." So he beat her limp with a club, tied her firmly to a post, and fell into a drunken slumber.
At this juncture her friend, the barber's wife, learning that the weaver was asleep, came in and said: "My dear, he is waiting for you over there—you know who. Go at once." But the weaver's wife replied: "Just see what a fix I am in. How can I go? You must return and tell my adorer that I cannot possibly meet him there at this moment."
"My dear," said the barber's wife, "do not say things like that. For a wench of spirit this is no way to behave. As the saying goes:
Those who earn the name of blessèd
Show a camel-like persistence
When they pluck the fruit of pleasure,
Counting neither toil nor distance.
And again:
As the other world is doubtful
And as scandal misses truth,
When you've hooked another's lover,
Best enjoy the fruit of youth.
And once again:
Fate may rob him of his manhood,
He may handsome be or ugly,
Yet a wench, whate'er it cost her,
Entertains her lover snugly."
"Very fine indeed," said the weaver's wife. "But tell me how I am to go when I am tied fast. And here lies my husband—the brute!" "My dear," said the barber's wife, "he is helpless with drink and will not wake until the sun's rays reach him. I will set you free and take your place myself. But you must hurry back when you have entertained your admirer."
This she did, and a moment later the weaver rose a little mollified, and said drunkenly: "Come, you nagger! If you will stay at home after today and stop nagging, I will set you free." The barber's wife said nothing, fearing that her voice would betray her. Even when he repeated his offer, she made no answer. Then he became angry and cut off her nose with a sharp knife. And he said: "Whore! Now you can stay there. I shall not be nice to you again." So he fell asleep, muttering. Now Godly, having lost his money, was so tormented by hunger that he could not sleep, and was a witness of all that the women did.
Presently the weaver's wife, after enjoying the full delight of love with her swain, came home and said to the barber's wife: "Well, are you all right? I hope that brute did not get up while I was gone." And the barber's wife answered: "The rest of me is all right. But I've lost my nose. Set me free quick, before he wakes up. I want to go home. If not, he will do something worse next time, cut off ears and things."
So the wench freed the barber's wife, took her former position, and cried reproachfully: "Oh, you dreadful simpleton! I am a true wife, a model of faithfulness. What man is able to violate or disfigure me? Listen, ye guardian deities of the world!
Earth, heaven, and death, the feeling mind,
Sun, moon, and water, fire and wind,
Both twilights, justice, day and night
Discern man's conduct, wrong or right.
So, if I am a faithful wife, may these gods make my nose grow again as it was before. More than that, if I have had so much as a secret desire for a strange man, may they reduce me to ashes."
After this explosion, she said to him directly: "Look, you villain! By virtue of my faithfulness my nose has grown as it was before." And when he took a torch and examined her, he found her nose as it was originally, and a great pool of blood on the floor. At this he was amazed, released her from the cords, and flattered her with a hundred wheedling endearments.
Now Godly had seen the whole business. And he was amazed and said:
"Learn science with the gods above
Or imps in nether space,
Yet women's wit will rival it:
How keep them in their place?
Behold the faults with woman born:
Impurity, and heartless scorn,
Untruth, and folly, reckless heat,
Excessive greediness, deceit.
Be not enslaved by women's charm,
Nor wish them growth in power to harm:
Their slaves, of manly feeling stripped,
Are tame, pet crows whose wings are clipped.
Honey in a woman's words,
Poison in her breast:
So, although you taste her lip,
Drub her on the chest.
This palace filled with vice, this field where sprouts
Suspicion's crop, this whirling pool of doubts,
This town of recklessness, sin's aggregate,
This house where frauds by hundreds lie in wait,
This basketful of riddling sham and quip
O'er guessing which our best and bravest trip,
This woman, this machine, this nectar-bane—
Who set it here, to make religion vain?
A bosom hard is praised, a forehead low,
A fickle glance, a mumbling speech and slow,
Thick hips, a heart that constant tremors move,
A natural twist in hair, and twists in love.
Their virtues are a pack of vices. Then
Let beasts adore the fawn-eyed things, not men.
For reasons good they laugh or weep;
They trust you not, your trust they keep:
These graveyard urns, oh, haunt them not!
Keep kin and conduct free from spot.
The lion o'er whose awful face
Falls fierce the towsled mane,
The elephant upon whose cheeks
Streams ichor's glistening rain,
The men of wit or courage who
In books or battles gleam,
In presence of their females, all
Turn into cowards supreme.
And once more:
This gunja-fruit (oh, what was God about?)
Is poisonous within, and sweet without."
In these meditations the night dragged drearily for the holy man. Meanwhile the go-between went home with her nose cut off, and reflected: "What is to be done now? How is this great deficiency to be concealed?"
The night during which she pondered thus, her husband spent in the king's palace, practicing his trade. At dawn he came home and, being eager to begin his thriving business with the townspeople, he stopped at the door and called to her: "My dear, bring me my razor-case at once. The townspeople need my services."
Hereupon an idea occurred to the noseless woman. She remained in the house, but sent him a single razor. And the barber, angry because the entire case had not been delivered, flung the razor in her direction. This gave the wench her opportunity. Lifting her hands to heaven, she dashed from the house, screaming with all her might: "Oh, oh, oh! The ruffian! I was always a faithful wife. Look! He cut off my nose. Save me, save me!"
Hereupon the police arrived, thrashed the barber limp, tied him fast, and took him to court with his wife whose nose was gone. And the judges asked him: "Why did you do this ghastly thing to your wife?" Then, his wits being so addled by astonishment that he could give no answer, the jurymen quoted law:
"The guilty man is terrified
By reason of his crime. His pride
Is gone, his powers of speaking fail,
His glances rove, his face is pale.
And again:
The sweat appears upon his brow,
He stumbles on, he knows not how,
His face is pale, and all he utters
Is much distorted; for he stutters.
The culprit always may be found
To shake, and gaze upon the ground:
Observe the signs as best you can
And shrewdly pick the guilty man.
While, on the other hand:
The innocent is self-reliant;
His speech is clear, his glance defiant;
His countenance is calm and free;
His indignation makes his plea.
The prisoner is obviously guilty. The legal penalty for assaulting a woman is death. Let him be impaled."
But Godly, seeing him led to the place of execution, went to the officers of justice and said: "Gentlemen, you make a mistake in putting this wretched barber to death. His conduct has been correct. Pray listen to these words of mine:
The jackal at the ram-fight;
And we, when tricked by June;
The meddling friend—were playing
A self-defeating tune."
So the officers said: "How was that, holy sir?" Then Godly related to them the three stories, complete in every detail. And they were all astonished as they listened. They set the barber free, and said:
"Slay not a woman, Brahman, child,
An invalid or hermit mild:
In case of major dereliction,
Disfigurement is the infliction.
Now she has lost her nose through her own act. As additional punishment from the king, let her ears be cut off." When this had been done, Godly, strengthening his spirit by the two examples, returned to his own monastery.
"And that is why I say:
The jackal at the ram-fight, . . . .
and the rest of it."
"Well," said Cheek, "such being the case, what are you and I to do?" And Victor answered: "Even in these circumstances, I shall have a flash of intelligence, showing me how to separate Lively from the king. Besides, he has fallen into serious vice, has our master Rusty. For
Mad folly stings
The greatest kings,
Who then embrace a vice;
But servants' care
Should check them there
By means of learning nice."
"Into what vice has our master Rusty fallen?" asked Cheek. And Victor replied: "There are seven vices in the world, namely:
Drink, women, hunting, scolding, dice,
Greed, cruelty: these seven are vice.
These, however, really make a single vice, called 'attachment,' with seven subdivisions." Then Cheek inquired: "Is there only a single fundamental vice, or are there others also?"
And Victor expounded: "There are in the world five situations fundamentally vicious." And when Cheek asked: "How are they differentiated?" Victor continued: "They are called: (1) deficiency, (2) corruption, (3) attachment, (4) devastation, (5) mistaken policy.
"To begin at the beginning, the vice called 'deficiency' means the non-existence of one or another of these: king, counselor, people, fortress, treasure, punitive power, friends.
"Secondly, when subjects, whether foreign or native, become restless, whether individually or en masse, there arises the vicious situation called 'corruption.'
"'Attachment' was explained above, in the words:
Drink, women, hunting, . . . .
and the rest of it. Here there is a love-group (drink, women, hunting, dice) and a wrath-group (scolding, and the rest). A man thwarted in the love-group becomes obnoxious to the wrath-group. The love-group requires no elucidation. The wrath-group, however, threefold as already described, needs some further characterization. 'Scolding' is ill-considered imputation of fault on the part of one bent on injuring an antagonist. 'Cruelty' means ruthless and unwarranted refinements in putting to death, imprisonment, mutilation. 'Greed' is covetousness pushed to a merciless point. These are the seven subdivisions of the vice of attachment.
"Next, there are eight kinds of devastation: by act of God, fire, water, disease, plague, panic, famine, devil-rain (which is a mere name for excessive rain). This disposes of the vice called 'devastation.'
"Finally, there is mistaken policy. Where a man makes a mistaken use of the six expedients—peace, war, change of base, entrenchment, alliance, duplicity—adopting war instead of peace, or peace instead of war, or making similar mistakes in regard to the other expedients, there we have the vice of mistaken policy.
"Now our master Rusty has fallen into the very first vice, that of deficiency. For he has been so captivated by Lively that he pays not the smallest heed to counselor or any other of the six supports of his throne. He adopts rather completely a vegetarian morality. So what is the use of a lengthy discussion? Rusty must by all means be detached from Lively. No lamp, no light."
"How will you detach him?" objected Cheek. "You have not the power." "My dear fellow," said Victor, "there is a verse to fit the situation, namely:
In cases where brute force would fail,
A shrewd device may still prevail:
The crow-hen used a golden chain,
And so the dreadful snake was slain."
"How was that?" asked Cheek. And Victor told